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Mar 2020
I can see sand on the watery riverbed.
Dappled grey clouds reflected ripples.
A curious swan glides over to meet me.
Winter is relinquishing it’s hold
and grey-green grass is sprouting.
Shaggy sodden crows bob their heads and
the geese are calling.
Liz
Written by
Liz  London
(London)   
130
 
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